The Unseen Here and
Now . . .
Stuart
Revercomb
Stuart
Revercomb is a marketing consultant and joyously married father of four
children. He seems to remember someone once telling him he ought to be
a writer. "The Unseen Here and Now" -- Thursdays.
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"Thursday's Fare"
April 24, 2002
A friend wrote me last week that she had had a busy week, "but that it had made time fly..." She then inquired, "Is that a good thing, though?"
Good question. I suppose the answer has something to do with how much you happen to be enjoying what you're doing. Being busy can make time fly. Being busy at something that brings you joy can make it stand still, until you reach a point at which you realize time has been passing and you wish you had more of it. Such is usually the case when I sit down to write these things. Other times, time indeed does "fly"... to no particular place at all.
I have a friend named Tim who knows how to have a "good time." Tim is rather on the laid back side of things. One of those people that my father must have been referring to when he would say, "if he were any more laid back he'd be asleep." Tim wisely never grew up in many ways - at least in the sense that he felt like he had to buckle down and start a "professional career." He was smart enough to know he was happiest when creating things, and so he has spent the majority of his years as a journeyman artist, photographer and musician. Tim's bands, in their many varied forms, have played around the state since I was in high school, and he continues to do so when, "time and weather permit."
When asked why he took such long breaks between music sets at fraternity parties in college, Tim would reply with a very large grin, "Hey, not to worry gentlemen - we're on 'Tim Time'..." It always brought a good laugh, even from the "gentlemen" who were ready to kill him for putting such long pauses in the middle of their party. But there was something about the notion of being on some other system of time, beyond that of this world, that I always liked. I got the feeling that if everyone were on "Tim Time" the world might be a better place. Because "Tim Time" was most definitely about letting things pass at their own pace.
Maybe he didn't know it, but I think Tim was pretty close to being on "God's Time."
A couple of years ago I was invited to join a long standing fishing trip made up of a group of doctors and their sons that have been traveling to Cape Hatteras since the 1950's. The present day group is not the original, of course, but rather a gathering of "honorees" that have received the mantle since the first group assembled so very long ago. Being an event of such "heritage" there are many traditions : a shot of sherry with breakfast, sardines with mustard and hot sauce on the beach, Brunswick Stew for lunch, (the rookie cleans the pot in the surf), the smoking of cigars that don't have labels, (imported from some country to the south)... the list goes on and on. I'll leave the rest up to your imagination, comfortable in the fact that as creative as it may be, you will likely still fall short of the reality of the enterprise, that at the end of the day has less to do with fishing than it does, "just getting out in it."
But as "unserious" as it may be when it comes to fishing, its not entirely - for like anyone that pursues such quarry, these fisherman, myself included, like to catch fish from time to time. Nay, most of the time, for if you're going to be "out in it" having a big old time, you might as well be catching fish in the process. So little did I know as I caught the first fish of the day some 3 years ago on my rookie trip, that I would be starting a tradition that was likely to be the source of great consternation if not complete frustration for my newfound fishing buddies.
The tradition?
I would catch all the fish.
I mean ALL the fish. The first trip I caught a Pin Fish, a Bluefish and a 2 foot 3 inch Red Drum. It was the biggest fish I have ever caught. Total catch by 7 other fisherman using perhaps 12 other poles over a three day period?
Zero. Zilch. Kapatska.
The second trip I caught a Flounder, 7 Bluefish and a 2 foot 9 inch Red Drum that was even prettier than the one the year before. I brought him in by the light of the moon on one of the most beautiful fall evenings I have experienced anywhere. I swear I could see that fish in the moonlight for over a minute as he made his way back out through the waves. He seemed to have the glow of another world about him.
Outside of a quick run of bluefish that provided some great angling pleasure for a few of us, everyone else came up with another goose egg. I knew deep down they were happy for me, but I was sure I noticed a sideways glance or two come down the beach the next day. I was amazed they didn't make me clean the pot again.
So this year when the younger members of our tribe took several of our children down for an intermediate Spring trip, I was certain our luck would change and things would even out. The first day the weather was foul with a 25 knot wind blowing out of the Northeast. The likelihood of anyone catching a fish was extremely low. We had over 12 rods in the water and I figured the odds of something hitting my pole in particular were about as good as winning the lottery.
I should have played it.
I was reaching for a hard boiled egg when it hit. My friend Brad was the first to yell, "STU - YOUR ROD!!!"
It had slammed down hard into the sand as a huge Red Drum took the bait and ran. I sprinted up the beach, and grabbing the pole before it disappeared into the surf, wrangled and wrestled the fish to shore. He was 2 inches short of 3 feet... 6 inches too big to keep according to N.C. State Law. Whoever heard of a fish too BIG to keep? It was fine with me, however. The children were enamored and had a chance to touch and behold the beautiful creature. We let him go as they danced around the beach in excitement.
My friend Mark jokingly yelled, "CUT IT OUT WILL YA!"
"It only happens when I fish with you", I replied..
"It's a good thing the older guys aren't here," he laughed.
The rest of the trip went as usual. Aside from a few small Sand Sharks and "Puffers", mine was pretty much it. That night Mark's brother Eric posed the question, "So why do you think you caught that fish and all the others? Your timing is impeccable - how in the world do you do it?"
"I have absolutely no idea", I replied. Then I remembered a moment that morning as we left the hotel - the last ones out. It was our first day, and I was in a rush to catch up with the others who had already been fishing the day before. We had several things to do, including getting the air pressure right in our tires for driving on the beach and picking up some fresh bait. We had yet to rig our lines as well.
As I began to shift into the worldly mode of doing everything in the time I felt we had to do it, I caught myself. Somehow I managed to take a deep breath and relax. I turned to the children and said, "You know, it's during moments like these you have to slow down and relax and take things as they come. .. and not be anxious about everything you have to do... If you don't, you take yourself out of the world of possibilities that God has for you, and you create a moment in which its difficult for the Spirit to work..." They actually seemed to be listening. "If we catch a fish today, maybe it will be because we didn't get caught up in forcing things right now and are right where we are supposed to be later on - instead of some place we put ourselves by not accepting the flow of things..."
I said that. Or something close to it. I really did.
I'm not sure they understood every word - I'm not sure I do... but we did catch that fish.
Must have been on "Tim Time"...